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It's been some time since I've written, and for that I apologize. The past few weeks have been quite a strain. The lads are in the midst of a big offensive. They have made some gains, but at terrible cost.

One of our medics, Alistair, was killed a few days ago. It was quite a shock, as he had been helping us in the aid station not an hour before his death. Tanner and a few of the other lads were also badly injured that same day. Christy was believed to be dead as well, but somehow he survived. It was a rare miracle that proved a bright spot in an otherwise dreadful day.

After these past few months, they are no longer nameless boys, but friends - some of whom we've patched up and sent back onto the field more times than I care to think about. Each time I wonder if this will be the time their luck runs out. Each time, fewer and fewer of them return.

Just yesterday I had a few lads at the front give me their last letters for safekeeping moments before an attack. Only one returned to collect his. I will send the others on today with a letter of my own. Kind lies to spare them the grim reality of last moments spent in terrified agony, or a body lost forever to No Man's Land.

I try to stay cheerful for the sake of the lads, but I find myself weary of the endless slaughter.